


An Act Of Contrition

by Bananas45



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Levi is In Denial (Shingeki no Kyojin), Love/Hate, M/M, Military Ranks, Minor Character Death, Moral Dilemmas, Pining, Porn With Plot, Self-Acceptance, Sexual Tension, Survivor Guilt, The plot is way too long and unimportant, Touch-Starved, Trust Issues, post ACWNR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananas45/pseuds/Bananas45
Summary: “I’m not fucking dying for them,” He says, scathing and unhinged. He barely registers saying it, it seems to bubble up, revealing. Those noblemen who spat at his very existence - who tricked him with sweet nothings into getting his friends killed. Who wouldn’t give him a second glance if he was dying in the street. He’s not giving up his life to fund their future.“Then don't,” Erwin says, with such simplicity it makes Levi rabid.You’d never understand“Live for me” He steps forward and Levi finds himself stepping back, eyes wide but glued to Erwin’s, breath frantic.
Relationships: Levi/Erwin Smith
Comments: 39
Kudos: 244





	An Act Of Contrition

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fever dream of a fic. I've not watched or thought about aot in like 5 years and yet I woke up one morning in 2021 and decided to write 13k of Erwin/Levi??? Once I'd started I just couldn't stop until i'd exorcised all my demons and thoughts about the two of them. 
> 
> I really wanted to explore (explore...I'm so fucking pretentious) Levi just post no regrets and how he got from the mess he was at the end of that to how he is in the series and I'll be honest - I probably failed. 
> 
> Anyway, this is self-indulgent, over half a decade out of date...but enjoy?

The light is silvery and without the sun the air is frigid. Over the reflection of the lake, black as the sky above, the dark shapes of forests and hills, seemingly unending, move and tangle, unknowable and terrifying, against Levi’s blurring vision. 

He sighs, ragged and shaky. Then again, more controlled through his nose. His own weakness is a danger, not just to himself but to others now and he can’t abide it. It’s hopeless to fight against, he’s aware of that. Adrenaline is a potent drug with harsh side effects. It kept him alive today, kept him alive while others died around him. 

And yet it ebbs away now, leaving him boneless and weak kneed. Behind him the camp is alive with quiet golden energy, fire lit and vulnerable. Their voices are hushed but still pierce the night. Every soft laugh, or cry, spikes his pulse. He loathes these expeditions, at night, especially, it becomes crystal clear just how alone they are - how hopeless, how far out, how  _ free _ . 

He tries to embrace it, revel in it - or at least draw some strength - but he’s not used to it. Not like the others. Power is a form of freedom and he’s never had the luxury of either. Moreover, he’s not sure what he’d do with it. Maybe it’s the fear of squandering it, or misusing it that makes him so uncomfortable with rank he’s been afforded so recently. 

Or it’s the guilt. The objective betterment of his life at the death of his friends, gaining power by giving it up. Supplication to a higher power he’d had the luck of avoiding most of his life. 

Levi undoes as many of the buckles on his uniform as he can afford to, running his left hand over the surface of the water, clean and untouched. The perfect reflection of the sky above ripples, the water is cold but it’s a blessing against his sweat soaked skin. The uniforms are utilitarian, functional but not made for the type of war-fare they engage in. The cotton sticks, soak through with heat in the daylight, through exertion and cools by nightfall, to make you shudder. 

The harness drops to his waist as he unbuttons the top of his shirt, only enough to expose his clavicles, to run his fingers over the indents on his shoulder, the sharp raw marks left there. He gathers water in his palms, scrubs over his face and neck, letting a soft sound of relief slip between his lips as it hits the corded, heated muscles of his neck. 

“Enjoying yourself?” 

He turns, glare in place even if his pulse quickens at the voice. Erwin Smith leans against a tree, hair almost white in the light of the moon, eyes iridescent. He fixes Levi in place with a sort of amused smile, superior but friendly. For everything he’s done, he makes a mighty fine leader - Levi can admit that much. A lesser man would be enthralled. Many lesser men  _ were  _ and none of them made it to nightfall. 

He wonders how many men have died for the sake of Erwin’s disarming smiles and empty words in his short time as the new commander. 

  
“Sir” He says, acknowledging nothing more. 

He’s in good spirits, he always is if they make it to nightfall with enough people left not to warrant turning around. He counts that as victory. In a lot of ways he’s worse than Shadis, just more palatable in presentation. 

“At ease” He says it like a joke, like Levi is always at ease - or like he knows he never can be. 

He comes forward enough that Levi feels an instinctual desire to rise, to come up to something other than Erwin’s knee or to feel less like he’s currently on his own. 

“How are you?” Erwin asks, congenial. 

Levi splashes his face, hoping it might focus him and stands, feeling it as both a victory and defeat as Erwin’s gaze falls down on him. Approving and guarded. 

“You mean the loss of my entire squad?” 

He’s come to feel almost a complete apathy towards that kind of loss. He lost Isabel, Furlan, the first time and it hurt so much it calcified any desire to make meaningful connections with men who are doomed to die. 

“No,” Erwin says. “You’re tired. I can tell. You should eat something” 

He snorts, he can’t help it. 

“You don’t care?” He smiles tightly. “You’re the one who promoted me. I thought you might be disappointed” 

Erwin regards him, eyes blank, body held tight with tension reflected in Levi’s own. 

“You’re alive. They’re not” Erwin looks away, voice suddenly distant. “I expected it” 

His stomach twitches uncomfortably. The night air holds a tension that has nothing to do with threat. 

“Expected it” It falls out unbidden, he’s unsure of the emotion behind it. Sometimes he feels disappointed in himself for being shocked by Erwin’s apathy. 

Erwin looks back. 

“Come back to camp” 

Levi nods absently but he makes no effort to move. The words are heavy, an admission to more than just the events of the day. He knows - they both know - the weight behind them. The value Erwin places on him, it’s like a shackle and key all at once. He freed him from responsibility, gave him something to survive for instead of survival's sake and ripped away any better offer. 

Levi played into his hands, he always has. It makes him swallow, dizzy with it. It’s terrifying. 

Erwin looks him over, as though checking for an injury, a little look of surprise in his gaze that Levi didn’t instantly heel. Then he smiles, gaze on his open collar. 

“You wear them too tight” 

Levi startles, gaze meeting Erwin’s. 

“I’m sorry?” 

Erwin’s hand is cold but Levi can feel just under the skin, the heat of him. It lands on the juncture of his neck and collar, sliding under the shirt to settle across his shoulder. He flinches, unable not to. It’s a trained response, not a military one. He wants to swallow, but Erwin will pick up on the motions. 

Below the shock, he can feel something else, a heady desire to lean into it, the comfort so freely offered. Physicality has a tendency to scatter thoughts, though he doubts Erwin is so affected. If you grow up used to it, he surmises, you build a tolerance. 

“You broke the skin” Erwin murmurs, voice pitched low with concern. 

“I was just” His voice gives out and he hates himself for it. “Moving a lot”

Erwin smiles at that, his spare hand falls to Levi’s hip and for a moment he wonders if the touch will settle there but it doesn’t. He grabs the harness and pulls it up, inspecting. 

His gaze turns painfully fond as he runs a finger over the added belt hole he’d had to make with a knife, the frayed leather runs over Erwin’s thumb. 

“They didn’t have one that fit me” He wonders if he could take Erwin here, catch him off guard, punch him in the throat. It’s unlikely. 

It’s funny, he hasn’t thought about killing him in months, guilt settles like a stone in his stomach. 

Fondness is the worst humiliation, the insinuation they have something more than blackmail and authority between them makes Levi’s chest ache. 

“You did,” He says mildly. “At one time” 

“You confiscated that” 

“Memorably” 

He jolts back, burnt by the joviality of it. Erwin seems to jolt too, aware of the callousness. It’s been months, Erwin is probably thinking, that’s enough time to move on. It would be for Erwin.

“I’m sorry -” he tries, then shutters off, gaze somehow softening and hardening at once. “I came to collect you” 

He takes a sharp breath in his nose. Letting the tension return to his shoulders, his stomach. The ache is grounding. 

“I’m the last person they wanna see” 

Erwin regards him, eyes unreadable as always. He wonders if he’s as incomprehensible to Erwin as Erwin is to him. It’s unlikely. 

“You’re the only person they want to see” 

His jaw tightens at that, nose twitching. 

“Five people died because of me” 

“Because of you?” Erwin cuts him off, voice frigid. “Five people died and you survived. It’s as simple as that” 

“They died,” Levi says, with finality. “I didn’t. It breeds resentment” 

Erwin laughs. “It breeds  _ hope _ , Levi” 

Levi swallows, eyes fluttering against whatever bubbles in his throat. 

“You’re their commander. You inspire that without me -” 

“There is only so much words can do” Erwin says, succinctly. “But you’re right. I am your Commander and I’m not asking you, I’m ordering you” 

The heat on his shoulder, the tingle of a touch, fades brutally. 

  
  


“You’ll ride with my second squad” Mike says, no preamble, as he rips some bread in half, offering it as he stares at the sheet. “They lost a lot. They could do with it. Green” He says as explanation. 

Levi nods. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened” 

“Don’t be,” Levi says. “It was my mistake. Green” 

Mike gives him a wry smile. 

“You have an admirer,” He says and Levi almost instantly rebukes it, presuming he can only mean Erwin. 

Sometimes he wonders if people like Mike, Hanji, those who know Erwin and follow him freely, resent him for how fast he’s climbed the ranks, how noticed he’s become but they don’t care, not like that, they’re jaded enough to be happy to have another person to rely on for a conversation that can carry over to nightfall. 

They’re terrifyingly selfless in a lot of ways. Mystifyingly stoic. 

Mike notices something, his hesitation or confusion maybe. 

“That Titan” He clarifies. “I heard you almost took it down” 

“Not today,” Levi says, tight. “Once before. Didn’t think the bastard would remember me so well” 

_ The glint of recognition, of desire to win, had shaken him so much he’d barely noticed how well it had broken their lines and by then it was much too late.  _

“They can,” Mike says. “Never leave a wounded animal alive” 

Levi looks down, his appetite gone. 

“I’ve never hunted before” 

“No” Mike says “I don’t suppose you would’ve” 

  
  


The team leader, who’s name Levi doesn’t know, is still shaking by the fire, running a hand over his bearded face. The remnants of his subordinates staring, dark eyed at the fire. 

He stands, knocking over his own cup, when Levi approaches. 

“Sir-”    
  


“I’ll ride with you tomorrow” 

His face breaks with relief, palpable and heady, he sits, as though he can’t stand anymore. 

“Right, yes” He says and then he blanches, as though he doesn’t know what to say. His men are already looking to Levi, an admixture of curiosity and respect he doesn’t know what to do with. 

“Do you want-” He tries and Levi understands suddenly. “What did the Squad Leader say?” 

  
“Relax, Your team is yours” He sits. “I’m just riding with you” 

Another look of relief. 

“Did you kill it?” Someone asks. “Heard that titan took out your whole squad for revenge” 

“Jameson!” The Leader says. 

Levi regards him. He’s young, younger than Levi, probably a teenager. His hair is rust coloured, his eyes blue, he’s pretty. No, Levi realises, He’s well bred. Inner wall material, probably ranked 11th, cut his losses so he didn’t have to face his Daddy. 

“He took out that whole squad trying to catch me,” Levi says. “I was just too fast” 

“Aren’t you angry? If any son of a bitch took out my squad. I’d be blooded minded” Jameson laughs but his eyes are firmly on Levi. 

“You’d be dead” 

Jameson flushes, nostrils flaring. Someone else perks up. 

“They say you left a scar, took all day for it to heal, maybe it wants revenge” 

He begins to understand, Erwin has manufactured a mythos around him he has no control over and it hurts a little, to hear them talk about his penchant for survival with such respect. He’s a highly adaptive sewer rat. 

Levi’s nose curls. 

“It healed,” He murmurs. “Next time-” He almost continues, explain how bad the terrain was, how fucking fast it was comparatively. But Jameson won’t care. 

“Next time” Jameson snorts. “Sure, Sir” 

“What?” And then realisation dawns. He chuffs, unable not to. “Fuck, Jameson was it? You’d piss your pants the second it laid eyes on you. It’d take it’s time with you, they like aristocracy”    
  


“Explains why you’re still alive then” Jameson snaps back. 

“That’s your superior you’re talking to!” The team leader barks. 

“He’s scared,” Levi says, aware of how deep an insult sympathy can be. “Let him be”

Jameson really flushes at that, fists balling like he’s about to fight. He won’t though, not because of Levi’s rank, just because he won’t win. He feels deeply sorry for the Team Leader, a vet by survey corp standards, lumped with a bunch of cadets, barely out of training. Preciously ambitious and scared reckless. Most won’t make it back, and their parents will take it out on him. 

It’s the problem with the Survey Corp - death is a painful, short thing. To survive is like an infected cut, slow and feverish. It drives you mad. 

“Scared? Nah. You’ve run out of chances, sir. The bastards mine. Next time we see him. I’ll take him down myself” 

Erwin chooses this moment to interject. Levi’s surprised he’d been listening at all, even if he shouldn’t be. 

“You’re in luck then” 

They scrabble to salute. Levi makes no effort to move. 

  
“I’m sure he’ll find you, with Levi in your ranks” 

He thinks, as he often does, of the moment all those awful pieces had fallen into place, beside that rotting corpse, with heads strewn by his feet. When he’d realised what a threat Erwin was, when his knees had hit the ground at just how thoroughly out played he’d been. His heart in his throat, the way he’d screamed. The memory is a tainted, guilt ridden thing now and barely feels like his own.

Jameson’s the same shade of ginger as Isabel. 

“Sir” he chokes on it, flush firmly in place across his freckled cheeks as the Commander's gaze falls on him. 

“Levi’s never had competition” He says it easily. “I trust you’ll impress. I saw your recommendation, Jameson, you’re talented” 

_ You just killed him _ , Levi thinks, with a removed but clawing sense of dread. 

Jameson’s breath catches and Levi has to wonder how he’d have reacted, under Erwin’s gaze instead of his blade, with training and dogma in his mind instead of fear and fury but he can’t, he can’t remove what he knows of Erwin , intimately, with the man who speaks now. 

“Yes sir” he says. 

“Any advice to give, Captain?” Erwin says and Levi feels his eyes close, like that can somehow block what’s happening out. 

“It’s smart,” He says. “Uses the terrain, comes up behind you, grabs as many as he can and then he’s gone. Hell, won’t even come out until he knows you can’t get a good blow on him” 

“Sounds like a fat-ass coward to me” One of the girls says and a few of her friends laugh. Jameson snorts, nodding in agreement. 

“There’s always a good shot” He mutters. 

“What do you wanna do, Jamey? Throw down your fucking lace glove? Dueling pistols at dawn? This is survival, It knows it. We go for the necks, sneak up on them like assassins. You wanna call them cowards for doing the same?” 

“You would find a way to defend them, sir” Jameson says. “You wouldn’t know honour if it slapped you in the face” 

Erwin’s watching him, carefully, gauging his reaction. His leadership was never a question of skill, they both knew that, but his authority has always been called into question. 

“Because I’m a criminal?” He asks with the type of painful clarity that makes people uncomfortable. 

Jameson regards him, a hint of fear in his eyes. His chest rises and falls, makes the wings on his chest seem like they’re flapping. They’re all watching now, whatever quiet revelries they’d allowed themselves ruined. 

“I asked you a question,” He says. “Speak honestly, You’ve not held your tongue so far”

“No,” Jameson says, slower, more aware of the eyes on him. “Because you don’t have any respect. ‘Cos you’ve been forced here” then, more emboldened. “Y’know I’d be kissing the Commanders feet If I were you and you got the gall to look like we’ve spat in your drink” 

He wonders what plays across his face that makes Jameson pale so dramatically. He’s not angry, in-fact he’s not anything, There is sort of an objective truth to the words he can’t ignore. He’s never been called selfish before and there is a sort of cold self-loathing that comes with the idea it’s what he’s become. 

“You’d look pretty on your knees Jameson” He mutters. “I’m sure the Commander thinks so too”

There is a whistle of laughter as he raises the cup to his lips, unaffected. A holler of ‘Captain!’, a few claps. Men are animals, regardless of their status. Jameson practically snarls, the realisation dawning quietly over his features that Levi has these people’s respect and his lip curls at the injustice of it. Fair enough, Levi thinks, the way they talk about the underground, the way they talk about the military, especially to little boys growing up in Sina - like it’s an honour not a fucking bad joke. Jameson is alone, without friends or family, in entirely unfamiliar territory, with people he’s been taught to mis-trust. 

They’re almost similar. 

Erwin’s gaze settles on him, lip turned up into a tired smile before he leaves them. 

  
  


The news comes at dawn that they have to ride back, too many injured, too much lost. 

Jameson’s shoulder’s sag with relief. More always die on the return leg, he thinks, solely because of the idea they’re safe. 

“Stay sharp,” he says. Jameson just rolls his eyes. That’s fine, he can do what he wants. It’s probably the last time he’ll see him. 

He’s their de facto leader but he lets the man from last night - Sorrel or something close - do the talking. He tries to think of that Titan, of the inevitable encounter today. He scans the horizon. 

“Uh - sir” 

He turns. It’s one of Jameson’s friends, he’s shaking - bodily - Levi notices. Sick with fear. His palms wet with sweat, he can see the condensation against the steel of the triggers on his hip. The fear is sickening, Levi thinks. Moreover it’s pathetic. He wants Levi’s help, his advice and once he gives it he’s responsible. His heart thunders, hatefully, at the prospect. It’s not Levi’s fault he weighs 50kg wet and fast reflexes from dodging street vendors and military police. 

What does he say to these people?  _ Spend at least 18 years starving, nervous, find a serial killer to raise you and then come back to me, we’ll work on your spin.  _

“I just -” He swallows. “When we engage it what do I-” 

He snaps “It’s basic fucking training” 

He never took it, never once, hell he doesn’t even know what they  _ teach _ in basic training. 

“I know” The boy says,his voice cracking. “I just - With you -” 

“They come at you, you turn in, get close, pull the trigger, slice down” 

The boy turns away, mumbling the words, glass eyed with fear. Levi catches his jacket. 

“Don’t run. Run and you’re dead. They catch you right out the air” 

Jameson is looking at him as he saddles up before he turns to his friend, they murmur something, laugh before they separate. 

The ride is quiet. He doesn’t take the time to look at the surroundings. He’s much too preoccupied. The screams of yesterday are closer to the forefront of his mind now. Had they trusted him to take it down? 

He thinks of Erwin suddenly, in a different light, of the sick obligation he has to keep them alive when it’s impossible. What had he said, on that blood soaked day? Something about regret. He’d been so alive with hatred back then, it had been like an exposed nerve. He’d wanted him dead, wanted him so dead. 

Every following conversation was like a needle in that nerve. Not just the fact they were forced together, not even the hatred still there. It was the exhausting nature of fighting someone like Erwin. Realising his own desire had hurt almost as much as their deaths. 

It was a twisted thing, to come to want someone who you should hate and it poisoned Levi, his every action both self-destructive and outwardly demonstrative. He wouldn’t play this part, he would take the promotion and the praise, with as little respect as he could. The only power he had now, was the knowledge of just how dearly Erwin needed him. 

Black smoke comes up somewhere to his right and he feels the second delay before the sound hits his ears. His horse swerves towards it with only a slight kick, speeding up. He’s within earshot of their screams. It’s that same fucking Titan, pulling people out the air. It takes a long look at them before throwing them aside, crushing them underfoot. 

The midday sun is behind it, causing the light to halo, blocking out it’s face. 

_ It wants me _

The land is flat, too flat to be able to move freely but it’s backed itself against a cluster of trees, protectively. He’d been the furthest right of his squad, tucked into the ranks on Erwin’s orders. 

He’d been the least likely to encounter it. 

He’d fought it exhaustively yesterday, until he’d been nauseous with vertigo and out of blades. 

The after-effects were lingering but he ignored them with a type of single-mindedness that either gets you results or killed. Erwin had clearly surmised; killed, this morning, when he chose to put him so far inside the lines.

It spurs him on, the idea Erwin could to readily sacrifice lives for his sake, it makes some unpleasant thing curl in his chest, a misplaced gratitude. 

“Don’t engage” he hears, sudden and to his right. 

Speak of the devil. He must have seen the flare, fallen back far enough only to tell Levi not to go. 

“Why?” He shouts, pulling his horse in closer. Erwin doesn’t slow for him. 

“You’ll probably die,” He says. “It wants  _ you  _ dead” 

Levi looks over, a horse has bolted, meaning someone’s riding double. Even that is a hopeful assessment. 

“Don’t trust my skills, Commander?” He checks his blades.    
  


Erwin manages to give him a long, tired look, even moving. 

“I can’t risk losing you” He shouts, a kind of brutal, exposing honesty behind the words Levi wasn't braced for. 

He catches his eyes, piercingly blue, feels the air pushed out his lungs like someone’s pinning him down. He almost wants to tell him to fuck off. 

“Speed up” Erwin tells him. 

“I’ll run my horse down,” He says. 

“I can get you a new one” Erwin snaps, like that’s in any way a response. There is sweat on his forehead, and a heated look in his eyes. It sets something alight in Levi, No-one’s ever looked at him like. Like he’s worth something. 

He’s falling, maybe into some intricate trap, he realises. Erwin’s a glue-trap, he’s charm and power and it’s  _ easy _ to fall in line with him. Hating him is like fighting the inevitable. Like hating the sun for shining. 

He hears the whine, as he races ahead. Puffs of hot air falling back into his face. 

Of course they make it back fine. 

  
  


Jameson catches him off guard, as he hands his horse over to someone, pulls him straight by his lapels, in a shake that makes him want to punch his teeth out. 

“Well done Captain!” he shrieks, tears in his eyes. Levi surveys the defeated look in the Team Leader’s eyes and feels his own heart sink. 

“Where’s your friend?” He asks Jameson. 

“ _ Where do you think?  _ Exactly where you put him! On bingo goddamn gas and he turned into attack when he had a clear shot straight back home” Jameson’s face is wet with tears, voice pitched with despair. 

“That’s the fucking exception” Levi pulls out his grip. “Did the two of you share a fucking braincell? To busy chasing glory to have your friends back”

“‘ _ Don’t run. Run and you’re dead’ Those _ words mean anything to you? You drilled that into him this morning! You scared all that training right out of him. Where the hell even were you?” Jameson’s sobs are uncontrolled now, making his whole frame shudder. Sundering him. 

Levi blanches at that. 

“You killed him” Jameson laughs, a humourless, broken thing. “And you can’t even bring yourself to pretend to care” 

He turns away, almost ready to rebuke that because he  _ did _ care. It’s not his fault the kid was undertrained and scared shitless. 

“Clean yourself up. Maybe we’ll have this conversation” 

Erwin’s gaze is on him again. Hanji is at his shoulder. 

“You handled that well” 

He regards her, unsure if it’s sarcasm. 

“We’ll see” He says and somehow gives himself away. 

“He’s angry anyway,” Hanji says, a stage whisper, as she follows his eyes. “He’ll find a way to vent it I’m sure” 

  
  


A week passes without any confrontation with Jameson. The kid skulks around like a ghost, avoiding him like the plague. It’s only when he’s called to Erwin’s office that he understands why. 

“I’ve assigned you a new squad” 

The desk between them is an impregnable wall. Protecting either of them from facing whatever slow descent they are tumbling down. 

_ Why do you care so much? _

It’s been on the tip of his tongue since the beginning. Erwin slides the paper over, He scans the list. 

“I don’t know any of these names, Sir,” he says. Erwin looks up at that, staring at him calmly. 

“They’re new, arrive this week” 

His stomach drops. A sick adrenaline rush washes through him, unfocusing the world. 

“I can’t - I’m not…” He stops, doesn’t even try without thinking. Erwin has had time to plan this, Levi hasn’t. It’s last time all over again, Erwin takes the aces out the pack and then watches him scramble to find them. 

“I’m not training new recruits” It’s a hiss between his teeth. 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m not ready-”    
  


“You misunderstand” Erwin looks up, gaze like a fucking bucket of ice. “Why do you think you can question the order? And read the bottom name, you know him” 

Jameson. Off course. It’s the nail in the coffin. Levi feels breathless. 

“He’s talented. Could be exceptional, if he was trained right and you’re the best of the best” 

The pause is too long. His breath isn’t steady enough. Erwin’s pen scratches like an insistent mosquito on the page. His brows knit like he's remembered something inane and irritating. 

“You’re dismissed, Levi” 

He closes his eyes, temples throbbing. 

_ How broken do you want me? Haven’t I done enough? _

He can’t say that though, Erwin doesn’t deal well with shows of emotion but he also feels completely glued to the ground. 

“I don’t have time for this'' Erwin says, the paper in front of him is a long, long letter. The bin is full of drafts. His eyes have circles under them, he wonders for a brief and pitying moment when the last time he slept was. 

“Time for this?” Levi echoes, then. “Should have let me die” 

“Don't,” Erwin says, full of warning. “I’m not in the mood”    
  


“But you’re in the fucking mood to dump this on me” Levi snaps. 

“I understand your reservations, Captain. Sincerely, but I’m stretched as is and you’re-” 

“Do you?  _ Do you?”  _ Levi feels like a live-wire, the tone is venomous, would make the average man incontinent on a good day. He remembers how it felt to be contracted to kill him, every moment afraid of discovery, every look laden with mistrust. He’d been so sick with nerves, displacement, overwhelmed by everything. 

Something in Erwin visibly snaps. 

“I understand you trained those two; Isabel and what? Farland?, whether you realised it or not. I understand that you blanch every time anyone asks you for advice, help, support. I know you got a boy killed because you couldn’t hold your lip, you freaked out and turned on him because it reminds you of them, it reminds you of what  _ you  _ lost. I know you let your little friends die because you underestimate people. You underestimated them, You underestimated  _ me-”  _

_ “How fucking dare you _ -” 

“I’m not done,” Erwin snaps. “I don’t have the luxury of wasting you anymore. You’ll teach them how you fight, how you think. Your friends were good, Levi, if they’d been invested they would have lived and that’s disappointing in itself” 

He’s shaking, shaking so violently he thinks he might pass out. There is truth in that, the type of hopeless truth Levi hates the most. Their deaths were unnecessary, all three of them were idiots. Finding a way to blame Erwin for that is dizzying but the hatred, deep inside of him, at the injustice of it all, has no release except for the man. 

“They were half as a good you and that’s still five times better than everyone else. So yes, Levi, I understand” 

His eyes land on him, glancing over him in one succinct and clinical observation. He’s not sure how he looks. 

“If you’re going to cry, Do it outside my office” Erwin says and then looks back down at the paper. 

“Fuck” Levi sighs, tone miasmic. “I get it. Troops are dropping like fucking flies. All those nobles wanna cut your funding ‘cos they see you for what you are; A fucking danger to society. You’re a shit leader, which is saying something ‘cos the fucker before you wasn’t much better either. They’re all just numbers to you right? I’ve seen toddlers play better with toys than you play with lives -” 

Erwin stands, with such force it makes Levi step back. 

“Careful” 

“You could’t even remember his fucking name” Levi snarls. 

“His name?” Erwin laughs, looks at Levi like he’s a stupid fucking child. “ How many do you think I lose? Do you know the kind of position I’m in? Don’t  _ ever _ pretend to know my mind, Captain. Names, Levi? I don’t even remember their  _ faces _ ” 

The distance between them shrinks to inches. Levi stands his ground, even if his heart thunders. 

“God, do you know what it’s like? Out there, at least they just try to kill me. Here, they  _ plan _ to ruin me and I have to find reason after reason to continue the only thing can  _ save _ us. Do you know how it feels?” 

The tone is different, raw and exposed and Levi has no means of defense against it. 

“And now,  _ now  _ I’m coming to rely fully on my own fucking assasin! You think it doesn’t haunt me everyday, that I've found myself trusting you?  _ Needing _ you” 

“You knew from the start” Levi’s voice stays remarkably steady for how he feels, turning on his heel to leave before he does something regretful. 

Erwin’s hand catches his bicep and Levi startles. A look passes between them and Levi feels, in his bones, that this is a defeat to Erwin, to reveal himself in such a way, to lose himself. Levi’s had men grab him his whole life, the simplest way to show their strength without needing to work for it, show the height difference, the strength, once you  _ catch  _ him he’s less of a threat. Erwin despises simple strategy. He’s forced his hand. 

“And you knew the risks” Erwin snarls. “Does that change anything?”

It feels like a betrayal and a disappointment that Erwin would do it. Presume to tower over him, scare him straight, like he’s not shown his own strength, his prowess, Like they haven’t proven themselves thoroughly to each other in other ways. 

“Let my arm go” He says it evenly, even if his pulse is hammering. The tension throughout him is easy to read, Erwin must see it. He holds himself bowstring tight, unsure of his intentions. 

“Excuse me,” Erwin says, so low Levi can feel it in his chest. “While I write a letter, justifying why a convicted felon newly placed in charge, losing a whole squad, was due to his exceptional talent and not sheer incompetence” 

“I hate you” Levi whispers, in a breath that tumbles forcibly out him. Pretension and rank, civility stripped. 

“Then get out” Erwin snarls. 

  
  


It doesn’t affect him as much as it should. He wishes it would but there is some hollowed out truth to the words Erwin had spat at him, that make even the acrid, burning hatred he felt feel numb and pointless. 

_ You took everything from me _

It’s so fucking dramatic. It would have been a ridiculous thing to say, given how incorrect it is. Erwin has given him something, entrusted him when he has no reason to and hates himself for it just as much as Levi hates receiving it. 

Sometimes he thinks back, to how he must have been thinking, how much his disdain had clouded his judgement. He should have just taken Erwin’s offer, the contract be damned. At least then they might have lived. 

The worst part is he can’t remember it, not well. When he tries to focus on his past before Erwin Smith, the feelings of living in that wretched place, he can’t summon it to the forefront of his mind. And that feels like a confounding betrayal of himself. Sometimes he can’t remember the sound of their voices. 

He does, he realises, have the opportunity to give people a better chance than them. Then they ever had. Hell, even then  _ he _ had. 

  
  


So he trains them not just because he has no choice but because he knows he can, because it’s the  _ right _ thing to do. 

And no one’s ever given him the opportunity to do that before. 

  
  


It’s quiet. The night air is damp and cloudy, the type of cold that gets in your bones. Regardless, Levi finds himself training till the back of his throat aches, till he can’t feel his hands and his nose is red. The moon is high in the sky, and might have passed over him already. It’s a good sign, he thinks, it means he won’t run into anyone. 

He’d been busy all day. The newbies are awful and Jameson hates him with such familiar intensity he finds it difficult to be around him, if only because it makes him feel like a hypocrite. He’s acutely aware that’s the  _ point _ . Erwin is a very kinetic teacher, he’s come to learn, if he can give you an in-field lesson, preferably without being in person, he’ll find a way to do it. 

They’d all traipsed off to the showers hours ago after Levi had called them worse than awful and threatened to make them turn in their badges. 

Jameson had told him it wasn’t fair. That he was being too harsh. 

Too harsh - that’s a joke. He’s not harsh enough. He’s fucking lenient. He’s fucking  _ saintly _ . If it had been up to him, they’d have been dismissed the first time they’d missed  _ all _ their targets. When the  _ first  _ one passed out from vertigo. Farless the fucking eighth but he knows Erwin needs cattle and meat grading means less to him than he pretends. 

A rush of some unable sickness shudders through him. Making his hands numb and his stomach twist like a hundred little needles to the gut. He takes a shuddering breath. 

He doubts he’ll sleep, which will inevitably make him more likely to flay a cadet with a butter knife in the morning, but he’s also aware how cold he is and how his limbs have begun to shake from exertion. Going another round with equally as exhausted plywood cutouts is going to be bad for both of them. 

So he cleans himself up, heading through drafty, twisting corridors. He passes through the mess with its eerie empty tables. Places that are usually busy hold an uncomfortable quality when stripped of their purpose. The chairs are stacked, you could hear a pin drop. It’s a major factor in how hard his breath catches when he hears a soft but fracturing. 

“Captain” 

Erwin is sitting at one of the long tables, alone but for a bottle and a glass. His eyes hold a heaviness that can only be achieved with alcohol in someone as observant as him. His jacket is slung over the chair, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, exposing the shadow of his traps over his collar bones. His cuffs unbuttoned, shirt rolled to his elbows. 

“Sir” 

They haven’t spoken since the altercation but it’s not surprising Erwin doesn’t feel the need to address it. He didn’t before. 

“You’re up late” He says mildly but he’s holding himself tight, eyeing Levi with a slightly downward smile. He throws back whatever was in his glass, hissing between his teeth. 

Levi doesn’t move, aware that he must look like a cornered animal. Like mice when you catch them scuttling and they seem to lose the ability to run. 

“It’s sad to drink alone,” he says, before he can really help himself and it’s easier than  _ why.  _

Erwin gives him a look, as though he’s weighing something up and clears his throat, foot landing on the edge of the seat next to him, kicking it out with a screech that makes Levi’s teeth itch. His eyebrows rise, the slightest inclination of an invitation and nothing more. 

It’s overwhelming, seeing him so open. Levi finds himself approaching warily, like this is some trick - he still has bruises on his bicep from the last time he got this close. He sits, back straight, legs crossed, in a controlled show of apathy. Erwin chuffs a laugh, weak and tired. 

“Do you drink?” His thumb rubs along the ridge of his brow. 

“Only to forget” 

“Only to forget” He echoes, biting his lip. He inhales through his nose, shoulders broadening as he kicks his chair back in the way that Levi shouts at recruits for. Erwin hooks a mug for him off a table behind them, sliding it over distance between them as all four legs hit the stone. 

He tilts the bottle at an angle that betrays how much he’s had himself. 

“To forgetting, then” He mumbles, clinking the ceramic together. He takes another sip, Levi leaves his own. 

A phlegmatic pause fills the air. Levi fights to control his breath in the audible, heavy, quiet. His head feels surprisingly empty, exhausted past emotion. 

“I thought of a hundred ways to apologise to you” Erwin says blandly, mostly to the silence. He’s leant forward on his elbows, moving the cup in his hand, gaze firmly on the liquid as it coats the sides. 

Levi’s gaze falters from the crack he’d found in the north facing wall, falling on Erwin in stunned disbelief. 

“And?” Levi asks. 

“Honestly?” Erwin says, his gaze shifting to find Levi’s. Another pause fills the air, Erwin’s jaw is tight. The bone casts a shadow across his cheek. “I couldn’t justify a reason to” 

Levi blinks. There is a quiet, exposing honesty to the words, like Erwin’s more ashamed of that than the things he’s done. 

“So I guess” Erwin laughs, a soft and disturbed thing. “I’m sorry about that” 

Levi finds himself downing the cup, squeezing his eyes shut at the burn of it. He lets out a shaky sigh. 

“That’s the worst apology I’ve ever fucking received” 

Erwin just watches him refill the glass, before frowning gently. 

“Did you mean it?” he asks. “When you said you hated me” 

His pulse jumps, thunders against his neck in a distracting, obvious way. Though to Erwin it probably looks like his eyebrow twitched. He’s blessed with unnaturally steady hands, or so Furlan had once told him, which makes returning the bottle less revealing than it might have been otherwise. 

Erwin has never lied to him, he realises dimly, just withheld information. He wields truth like an intricately made pen knife, knowing just when to strike and how deep. Lying to him would feel childish, moreover it would be a mistake. 

“No” He says, with a sundering finality to it. He feels it in himself, some subtle shift and catharsis at admitting it out loud. 

Another beat. 

“Interesting” Erwin says. He smiles, a little bashful. “ _ I _ meant it. I resent how much I -” He catches himself, fingers twitches around his cup. “You’re very impressive” he settles on. 

“I did try to kill you” He admits as a form of acquiescence. 

“Are you sorry about that?” 

His brows knit. Erwin watches him with open intrigue, head tilted. Levi considers it, he’s sorry about the outcome, that’s for sure but the act itself, he’s less sure. He’d been desperate, he’d seen an easy out, he’d taken advantage. By the end he’d been hungry for it. 

“No,” He says, his gaze dropping away from Erwin’s, the open scrutiny there. 

“Do you think about it?” 

_ Yes _

“There isn’t a point” It’s the conclusion he’s reached, after agonizing over it, both in the aftermath of their capture and then the subsequent months after their deaths. “You’d won before I realised we were playing” 

There is tangible defeat in his voice, like a knife slipping out an opening palm. Erwin notices it. 

“How is training?” He says, an offer out. He can sense Levi’s apprehension, his fear of being laid bare, his terror at the idea of submission. 

“Jameson hates me. The others are terrified” 

“Hanji told me you threatened to have them discharged” Erwin drinks again. “Can I ask why?” 

Levi chuffs, runs both hands through his hair and leans his elbows on the table as some of the tension in him gives way like an avalanche. 

“Because you’d have my ass for it, sir” 

Erwin laughs, sharp and full into the night. 

“No, Why did you want to?” He has a painfully earnest gaze for a man so calculating and when it settles on you, It takes your breath. Levi can admit that. 

“Because they’re gonna die” He says, without any bite. “And because they’re shit” 

He sighs, and then more revealing “I don’t wanna see Jameson die, regardless of his feelings toward me. He’s a good kid, even if he’s a smart-ass” 

Erwin smiles, then from behind his mug. 

“I know the feeling” 

Levi breaks, shoulders falling forward as a smile forces its way past all his defenses. He throws his hair out his forehead, cupping his hand there. 

“You’re not subtle, you giant fucking bastard” 

Erwin is staring with a kind of drunken openness that makes Levi brutally uncomfortable. The moonlight catches one eye, painting it a viciously bright blue but the lamp light catches the other, catching the warmth and the depth in them. He’s got a well proportioned face, like the ones girls - sick with deficiencies - would day-dream about saving them from The Underground and taking them into money and sunlight. 

“You have a nice smile,” Erwin says. 

A feverish shudder runs over him, head to toe. Somewhere between hot and cold. Somewhere between pleasant and repulsive. His mouth feels too dry to speak, his cheeks are hot but he prays it doesn’t show. His shock does, that much is clear from the barely repressed satisfied grin Erwin bites back. 

“Why were you drinking alone?” He asks, leaning on his cold palm and hating the heat he finds there. 

Erwin’s smile falls and he taps an open letter with his index finger, before refilling his glass. The seal looks official. 

“Declined?” Levi surmises. He doesn’t reach for it. Cursive is a bitch to read in candlelight. 

“Approved,” Erwin says, swallowing back another shot. Levi watches, slightly enthralled by the benefits of weighing more than 60kg. “Sometimes I just... “ He snorts. “Need not to think” 

Another pause spreads between them. Longer than any other. Erwin’s eyes are far away and when he speaks, the softness of it cracks against his throat. 

“I try,” He says suddenly. “To remember their names. I used to write them down. I think I need you to know that” 

Levi tenses, aware suddenly of how close they’ve gotten. Erwin’s hands are less than an inch from his elbow, clutched around the ceramic mug. His head, tilted lazily into his palm just a breath away from Erwin’s.

“I got that funding because,” Erwin’s voice is pitched for the distance, soft enough to ruffle the hair at Levi’s temple. “I told them you’d kill that titan, I scared them with the prospect it wanted you, that  _ you  _ could be their child. Righteous indignation -” he laughs, and it pushes a strand over Levi’s eyes. “Is a powerful motivator” 

“Will I?” He asks, instead of ‘ _ Did you plan all this’.  _ Held taut under weight off the tension between them. 

“Yes,” Erwin says and his knuckles, calloused and almost scorching, knock the hair back. “You will, Levi” 

Erwin’s eyes sweep over his face, with enough intensity to feel like a caress themselves. His own flutter, teeth ground like he’s in agony. The most frightening thing is the weight of his own desire, secondary to the heat and safety in Erwin’s touch. It’s unparalleled to anything he’s felt before; the heavy, warm, blanket of hunger that seems to settle over him. The trust Erwin puts on him feels less like a burden, more like an offering, a form of worship from someone who only knows how to sacrifice. 

He could give himself to this man, body and soul, and he’d trust him to take care of both. 

_ I’d die for him _

It’s a treacherous and sobering realisation, that comes unbidden from a buried part of him, in the disarming warmth of Erwin’s gaze. Between them are the bodies of the only people he could call family and the nauseating clarity - both that they're gone and that this is where he’s ended up - hits him full force. 

His chair scrapes back, eyes wide and Erwin’s hand pulls back, caught in mid-air. He’s nauseous and shaky, like he’s genuinely ill but his body feels detached from itself. 

Erwin stares at him, seemingly equally shocked before realisation dawns on him.

“I-” Levi tries but he breaks off, with a wrinkle of his nose, face pinched with disgust. His breath rattles in his chest. He finds his eyes closing, just to gather himself. 

“Get some sleep, Captain” Erwin says, the rank putting more distance between them than any amount of space. 

Levi’s immeasurable grateful for it. Erwin seems aware, acutely, of the lines they’ve overstepped. 

“Sir” He says, curt but shakily. 

  
  
  


He doesn’t sleep a wink and by mid-afternoon, a fifteen year old hands him a shakily written request to be transferred to the Garrison, with tears in her eyes. He doesn’t even read the whole thing. He’s not surprised. 

“Good timing” He tells her, with enough presence to let the room hear. “The Commander has an expedition planned, preparations start at 05 hundred and that’s  _ am  _ for those stupid enough to be confused -” He glares at a boy, still with a lopsided smile from whatever conversation he was having, slouched in his chair. “Sit up, Daniels” 

The boy scrambles to attention. They all do. These words seem to hit them enough to shock their training back into them. Jameson is staring, pitched forward in his seat, foot tapping against the stone. 

He looks over them. It’s pitiful. It makes his jaw tighten. He thinks to himself before the first time he’d went out,  _ haughtily _ self assured he could pull off a fucking assaination as well as survive. He had no idea how deep he was. No concept. It makes him want to shake them but there aren’t words to prepare you for that kind of hopeless fear. 

“You’re a sorry fucking bunch” He says, the throb at his temples from last night force it out. “I was a sorry piece of shit my first time round but I could land a hit and I'll be honest, you’re probably sick of hearing superior assholes like me tell you you’re not ready but you’ll never be ready and you’re probably gonna die. If not you than me. Just ready yourself for the fact some cunt’s gonna die” 

They’re watching him, he realises, with some sense restrained and cautious hope. If they think he’s going to say something rousing, he’s not. 

“Dismissed” 

Jameson holds back after the briefing, watching him with hawk-like eyes, a muddy green. He’s got a pout on, lip upturned. 

“That’s really how you did that? You think they’re gonna sleep a wink?” Jameson comes closer. “Damn, Sir. You know it’s one thing, showing up  _ hungover _ and riding your team so hard they leave. Another thing entirely to deliver news like to a bunch of scared kids”

He watches Jameson closely, with the type of scrutiny that used to make thugs crumble. To Jameson’s credit, he stands his ground. 

“What do you want?” He drawls. “A pat on the back and to be told it’s okay? Or want me to tell them about the Titan that ate your friend? That  _ you _ couldn’t take down because you expected me to save your  _ lazy, precious  _ ass. That I’m gonna have to fucking take down so  _ you  _ don’t get anyone else killed with your petty fucking heroics” 

Jameson’s nose curls. A beat passes between them, silent as his head shakes. 

“Levi. You’re an embarrassment” Jameson’s sneer is infuriating. “They told us you were the best in the corps but you’re just some underground nobody with good luck who sends kids out to die” 

Levi regards him, feels a kind of bone-deep pity for him that must show in the curl of his lip. There is a constant shaky whine to Jameson’s voice. A constant shake to his hands, a constant tension to his body. A constant need to prove himself. He steps closer and Jameson broadens his shoulders. 

“What’re you gonna do, Levi?” He says, emboldened, frantic. “You gonna hit me? You gonna hit me sir?” 

“Scares you, does it?” Levi asks, voice soft. 

“You don’t scare me  _ one bit- _ ” 

“No,” He says, even when they’re face to face, with inches between them, Jameson seems to shrink back. “I think you’re afraid all the time, Jameson. Afraid you’re gonna end up like your friend, some red smear on some field somewhere out there. A name, on a list, that nobody really remembers. See, that’s why you’re on my ass all the time. Praying nobody will notice that going out there? Scares you shitless” 

Jameson laughs, weak and forced, unshed tears just barely staying in his eyes. 

“You take it out on me ‘cos it’s  _ just not fair _ that some underground nobody is better than you. Can’t go back to daddy and -”

Jameson’s eyes flash with fury and embarrassment. Levi knows it well. 

He catches Jameson’s wrist before the blow can land, the boy’s wrist spasm’s once in an effort to escape. His breath is wild, like a barely restrained animal. It’s whistling out his nose. 

“You’re dismissed, Jameson.” He says, with enough authority that the boy does as he’s told for once. 

“You know” he says, breathless and humiliated. “If I take that fucker down, You should know - in your heart - you don’t deserve to be the Captain the Commander pretends you are” 

Levi smirks, it pulls viciously at the side of his lip. 

“If you take it down,” He snarls. “You can have the fucking rank” 

  
  
  


It’s hand comes down on Jameson’s cords on the morning of the second day. Levi watches him careen into a tree trunk with enough force to break bones. He doesn’t have time to consider the loss, not really. He barks orders at the others to go - because they don’t stand and he might. They stare glass eyed with fear with baulking horses until Levi fires off a flare that seems to startle them all into action. 

It’s distracted enough by the cut Levi made on it’s sternum not to notice as it swipes with enough to part air. 

“Jameson!” He barks. It’s huge brown eyes fix on him at the noise but it’s not a real concern, Levi may be fucked either way. He’s basically out of gas. He can feel against the triggers, as he lands close enough to get a visual. He’s curling in on himself in agony, making heaving groaning sounds that make Levi wonder if dying on impact would’ve been a blessing. 

“Can you move?” Levi shouts. His pulse is even in his ears, he’s never been one to rupture under pressure, it’s the sole reason why he’s alive. He wouldn’t go as far as to say he thrives - it’s more like he finds a state of mind, a focused precision, where nothing affects him. He shakes his head at Jameson’s lack of response. 

He knows only when nightfalls he’ll have to reconcile this crushed and bleeding creature with the freckled, plump cheeks of the boy. 

He doesn’t answer in time. If he’s alive so be it, if not, then - then he’ll think about that in another five seconds. 

“I’m gonna lead it away -” he replaces his blades. “I’ll pause at the edge of the forest, you get it from behind when I’m out of gas. You hear that, Jameson? It’s your fucking kill” 

He takes off, listening to it’s hard breathing at the back of his neck. He keeps it close, close enough that it can’t be distracted by anything other than him. It’s grubby fuck off massive fingers almost brush his back. 

But it doesn’t, it doesn’t catch him. It crashes down around him just as his Gas gives out. His feet hit the ground, feeling that strange inertia at the change in momentum before he turns back to see Jameson, wet with sweat, shaking on its steaming shoulder. It takes a shaky step forward before he slips, rolling hard off it’s skin and landing on the muddied grass. 

Levi catches him, rushing forward with more concern than he ever thought he could muster for someone who called him an embarrassment. He thinks, at first - naively - that it’s just exhaustion but he sees, once he’s on his knees, the rib that’s poking out his shirt. The ragged and gasping breaths sound like there's something wrong with his lungs. 

“Captain” He wheezes and swallows, painfully. 

“You did it” He says, watching how Jameson’s eyes roam. “Congratulations” 

Jameson smiles weakly, taking another shuddering inhale. 

“I’m not…” His eyes are filling with tears, cheeks losing the rosiness they held. “Doing to hot” 

Levi looks over him, his rust coloured hair is matted with blood, his clothes hanging off him awkwardly. He’s got minutes, at most. Levi feels a faraway biliousness overtake him - in all senses of the word. Hopeless anger mixed with hopeless sadness. It doesn’t reach his face, he knows, he used to be too tired to cry as a kid - too hungry and too exhausted - and his body carries it into adulthood, an ability to shut yourself off. 

“Did the others get away?” Jameson asks, weak and brittle. His breaths are wheezing, soft things. 

“Yeah,” Levi says. “Yeah they did” 

Jameson heaves a cough and his hand falls away a reddy black. The realisation of his own mortality seems to kick in and panic clouds his features, in some desperate grab at empathy Levi finds himself saying; 

“Hey” He rips his badge off his shoulder. “I believe this is yours now, Captain” 

Jameson gives him a once over, lips pursing - dry and blueing - and tries to smile. 

“You know I’m not making home, Sir” 

Levi opens his bloodied palm for him, placing it there for him, he closes Jameson’s fingers around it, guiding it back to his chest. His hand is clammy and cold. 

“You deserve it though” 

Jameson’s throat works both against his tears and against the difficulty of breathing. 

“Levi” It cuts off. “Everything I said, I didn’t-” 

“I know you didn't,” Levi murmurs, shaking his head. “You don’t need to worry about that, Jameson. It’s…” He’s shit it at this. “It’s fine” 

A flare sounds like some omen, a little way off and Jameson’s eyes try to find it. 

“You should go” He murmurs and schools his features against the rabbitish fear that’s forming in them. 

Levi swallows. It’s hard to see, no matter how many times you do, someone dying but it gives him an odd sense of closure to be here with Jameson. 

_ I never got to say goodbye  _

Not to anyone in his life. Not ever. He’s not sure what he hates more - that Furlan and Isabel died alone, or that they died without saying goodbye. 

“I’m not going anywhere” He says and watches the weak grip Jameson keeps on his badge. 

He smiles, bloodily and it forces the tears down into his hairline. 

“We took him down,” He murmurs. “We took it down” 

“ _ You  _ took it down and when you get back, shit, I’ll have to tell Erwin. They’ll have to take my name off the roster, put yours there instead. It’s gonna be a gut punch to my ego” 

“Captain…” Jameson whispers, a creak between his lips. Levi’s hand is in his hair, he hadn’t even noticed, stroking the curls. He’d stroked Isabel’s hair, when she’d had a fever. It had calmed her down. 

“Captain Jameson” Levi murmurs. “Has a ring to it, no?” 

“‘S...” Jameson croaks. “‘S good...Thank you” 

His breath shallows to nothing, clammy hands loosening on the badge he’s holding like a lifeline. The birds seem to be the loudest thing in the world. Levi’s tongue perches on his top teeth, digging in with enough force to hurt. His nose tingles just a little and he clears his throat, standing on legs that feel weak from exertion. 

Jameson’s dead and he has a long ride home. 

  
  


It’s funny how the same place can feel so liminally different. The mess hall, filled with lit lanterns and relieved men, intoxicated with the feeling of living another day, could be a different dimension to the one before they left - empty save for himself and Erwin and everything unspoken between them. 

His own squad are quieter, upset no doubt about Jameson. 

“He died well,” Levi had said as a succinct eulogy but they are Erwin's words and not his own. 

Dying well - it’s such a joke he feels hysterical despair bubble up at saying them but Christ they’re all looking at him -  _ all but one _ \- and this is the first time in his short managerial career he’s ever had people to talk down on the return journey. 

Erwin’s gaze is heavy on him and it makes him breathless in the worst way, more vulnerable than he’s ever felt before - bladeless, gasless against monsters or homeless, hungry and orphaned. He despises himself for it. He feels tired - tired of fighting Erwin, of fighting the life he’s been given. 

_ You wanted freedom, a _ part of him whispers, insidious and ever present. The guilt is sickening, from every angle. Boys like Jameson died for a glimmer of the respect they now give him. Isabel and Furlan died trying to escape the system he’s now entrenched in. 

He feels torn up, full of tristesse. All three of them probably deserve to be here more than he does. 

“-Humanities strongest - A few words, Levi?” 

He looks up from where he's sat, barely listening to whatever speech Erwin was giving - both to troops and to some auditor from high command who came to survey the fallout. Pitched forward over his glass of something distilled and vicious, eyes downcast, he looks up. Erwin’s eyebrows are raised, Hanji has a kind of painful, confused smile - like she’s not quite getting the joke. 

“A few-” He has to close his eyes against the desire to retch. “Um” 

You could hear a pin drop, the silence as encroaching as it was powerful. He doesn't feel like standing so he won't. He sniffs, index finger rubbing the cold and reddened tip of his nose and becomes aware just how empty his head is. 

“I’m new to this,” He says. There is a fucking  _ fly _ in his cup, he realises with distant revulsion. 

“I’ve been called a lot of things in my life -  _ strong _ was never one of them” Kenny used to call him tricky, fast and powerful in an unassuming way. Furlan always thought he was stoic, distant but kind and Isabel had thought he was wonderful in a childish kind of way. 

“Strength implies goodness and I’m not good. I’ve never been good. Your new Commander” He picks it out, flicking it somewhere on his nail and swaps his cup with the cadet next to him. 

“Now  _ he’s  _ a good man” He knows he doesn’t fully disguise his loathing. “That’s a strong fucking man. ‘Cos see, all I do is survive - to be strong you have to be willing to die. You can call me that, if it helps you sleep better but the fact of the matter is - The strong ones don’t come back. The ones who deserve it, the ones who want it - this bright shiny future - they don’t reap the benefits. You just get left with the street rats and Erwin Smith’s of the world”

He raises his glass. 

“Cheers” He mutters, wiping the rim of their cup even if it’s undrunk and downing the contents. 

  
  


It’s closer to dawn than it is to dusk when Erwin finally finds him and the barrack’s are silent but for crickets. They’re on the battlements, with its sprawling view of fields and 50ft concrete. Erwin’s presence is a tangible thing, Levi knows, he feels him there even if he doesn’t turn. 

“I’m sorry about Jameson,” Erwin says, tight and perfunctory. Levi doesn’t answer, he’s not engaging with that - no matter how many thoughts rush to the trip off his tongue. 

Another cricket filled pause fills the space between them. Levi doesn’t turn. 

“I came to thank you. Y’know that speech got us funded for another expedition, somehow” He says, laughing. “You made that nobleman cry. I told him about you, about Jameson. He called you a military success story-”

Levi turns on his heel, jaw achingly tight and slaps him, straight across his cheekbone. The sound seems to echo in the night. Levi realises dimly that his hand is trembling. He's never slapped anyone before. It seemed like a desperate thing to do, an action reserved for when even violence wasn’t a viable enough punishment. It’s reserved for betrayal, for hurt, not just for pain. The words - the  _ laugh _ \- felt so deplorable he couldn’t react any other way. 

Erwin takes a steadying breath. 

“Regretting calling me a good man, Levi?” 

God, he's furious. He could kill him. He really could kill him. It comes freeingly to the forefront of his mind and he clings to it like a cliff edge. The feeling is familiar and simple and he  _ needs _ it.

“ _ Good _ is a nothing fucking word used by _ thieving fucking _ bureaucrats to hoodwink idiots like Jameson into dying” Levi snarls. “It was exactly the right word for you”

Erwin stares at him, features schooled into passivity. 

“Is that what you think of me?” 

“It’s what I  _ know”  _ Levi says but it sounds wretched. He feels like he’s fucking falling apart. 

“Levi -” The tone is cautious, ready to breach something Levi can’t have broken tonight. 

“Don’t” 

“They didn’t deserve it” He says, with painful finality. 

“Enough” Levi barks. 

There is a clawing tone to the words, said with a reverence he’s never wanted. He baulks at it, taking a step back. It’s what he’s wanted to hear, it’s just hearing it hurts. He remembers that stupid rich auditor - staring at him like he was a breed of some kind of exotic animal he’d never seen. 

“I’m _ not  _ fucking dying for them,” He says, scathing and unhinged. He barely registers saying it, it seems to bubble up, revealing. Those noblemen who spat at his very existence - who tricked him with sweet nothings into getting his friends killed. Who wouldn’t give him a second glance if he was dying in the street. He’s not giving up his life to fund their future. 

“Then don't,” Erwin says, with such simplicity it makes Levi rabid. 

_ You’d never understand _

“Live for me” He steps forward and Levi finds himself stepping back, eyes wide but glued to Erwin’s, breath frantic. 

Would that take away the guilt? If his survival served a greater purpose, if Erwin took the guilt of his skill like a burden on his shoulders. 

“It was my fault,” He says with easy honesty. “I know it is. I take full responsibility for what happened and I’m sorry I couldn’t admit that sooner” 

Something chokes in his throat, a ball against his vocal chords, he stares desperately past Erwin.

“Don’t” He snarls, but it’s weak. His whole body is stretched taut, like every muscle has locked into place, his back ramrod straight. Breathing forcefully tight again. “ _ Don’t you dare” _

“I’m sorry,” Erwin says again. 

It’s like a chink in his armor, right beside wherever he’s keeping this bottled up - this thing he’s labelled hatred, that twists serpentine inside all the time - it hurts. Fighting it hurts, giving it up feels worse than death. 

He thinks of Erwin’s touch, his words, his actions. 

_ I’d die for him  _

He wants to scream but he can barely move his lips. 

“Levi” He says, stern and soft. “I am so sorry about your friends” 

He screws his eyes shut, mouth drawn into a firm line. The control is giving though, his throat aches and a sobbing exhale races out of him the second he opens his lips.

Everything aches in a distant painful way, exhausting and frightening. He thinks this might be the first thing in his life he’s been unable to fight against, that’s hate-able and thrilling all at once. Erwin’s hand lands on the back of his head, broad enough to cradle his skull and pulls him close. He goes without resistance, shoulders sagging. From bicep to bicep, Levi could fit twice over in his embrace. 

No-one’s ever hugged him, he realises dimly and the shocking comfort of it makes him seize up. He’s always tried to maintain distance as a principle not just because reliance is weak but because his body is the only thing keeping him alive and giving it to someone is something he can’t find a reason to justify. 

Erwin tilts his head up, running his thumb along the ridge of his cheekbone, feeling the indent. He’s breathing hard through his nose, brows knit, eyes scanning Levi’s face. 

Levi holds himself still, eyes downcast. Erwin traces the taut line of his jaw, brushing up to his temples to stroke the line of his brows. 

He’s not stupid, he’s knows exactly what Erwin wants or is  _ offering.  _ He wants to shake the touch off, wants to punch Erwin in the jaw for even presuming but he can’t help thinking  _ why _ he wants that. He’s clawing desperately at the hatred he barely feels, against a churning despair that feels like it’s eating him up. 

He doesn’t want to go back to his old life, he doesn’t want to be here, he hates Erwin yet has still willingly fallen in line to his commands. 

He’s a treacherous little rodent, a voice uncannily like Kenny’s whispers in his mind, no integrity, no decency, no mind for anything except seeing tomorrow. He did always think Erwin Smith was a glue trap of a man. He’s thoroughly caught. He’s seen rats gnaw their own feet off to escape them, in the underground. He’s twisting frantically against a fate he can’t escape now. 

The thought alone is exhausting. 

“Levi” Erwin’s voice breaks the silence of the night like a thunder clap against electrified air. 

He swallows, tight and painful and looks up at Erwin through a veil of black strands. 

Acknowledgment feels like a cardinal sin but he can see the trepidation in Erwin’s eyes, the desire to coax out Levi’s genuine response. That’s detestable too. 

_ Just do it, _ He thinks, body primed like he’s about to fight. Erwin doesn’t have the right to think about his desires now, after making all his decisions for him up until now. The audacity to force him to ask for this is more than Levi can take. He can feel it in his bones, in his sinews of his muscles. His pulse hammers violently at his neck. He tilts his head, just a little, as resignation and Erwin tenses as his hands cup Levi’s jaw. 

The kiss feels like a wound reopening, like ripping stitches and Levi’s breath stutters harshly in his nose. Erwin pulls back, searches his face with baring openness before kissing him again, deeper and with more purpose, until Levi’s lips open in surrender under the assault. 

His hands find the cold the stone of the battlement behind him, bracing against how all consuming Erwin is. He’s a disarmingly good kisser - which should come as no surprise - or Levi is disarmingly bad. His tongue is like a brand, the slide of his lips and the way he angles Levi’s head - slow and thoughtful as he breathes in through his nose. 

He thinks he’s only been kissed one time before- once with his arms bound by a handsy pair of MP’s who’s tongue he bit off in shock. They’d had an iron grip on his jaw, painful enough to force it open just not strong enough to keep it there. There had been a feral sense of satisfaction in that but no pleasure. 

This is incomparable. He thinks it’s more to do with the touch, the way Erwin’s hands - light but firm - stroke through his hair and down his neck. He does it so aimlessly, like he has no idea how affecting it is. It leaves him light headed, slightly desperate and when Erwin finally pulls back he finds he chases the sensation slightly. His eyes take a moment to open, feeling heavy against the sensations. 

“Are you okay?” It’s a rumble against his ear, where Erwin places a kiss before dropping more up his hairline and down his jaw. 

God, he sounds so fucking smug and self-satisfied. Though Levi can only imagine how he looks, flushed and dopey leant up against the stone after looking so venomous before. He tries in vain to steady his breathing. 

“Fuck off” He squeezes his eyes shut against the warm glow that’s settled over him. 

“That’s actually fuck off,  _ sir _ to you” 

Erwin’s close and incredibly warm, broad enough to block out the moon and suddenly he feels caged. He turns, bracing his hands against the wall like he might throw up, takes in a desperate gasp of cold night air. 

“Have you been kissed before?” His hands smooth over the rigid lines of Levi’s back. He must feel how tight he holds himself, the tension locked in every over-pronounced muscle. 

“Yes” He snarls. 

Erwin’s thumb and index finger pinch gently at the base of his skull beside the hollow areas of his neck muscles. It pulls a broken off groan from Levi before he can stifle it.

“Really?” He rubs circles there until Levi’s head bows, lips dropping open as a whisper of a breath falls out of them. 

“It wasn’t a pleasant experience” he mutters and Erwin’s hand stills at the confession. 

Silence spreads between them, steady and awkward. It doesn’t hold regret, Levi realises, like he expected. He’d hoped Erwin just wanted a taste, to realise how average he is and then move on but he’s still there, hand on Levi’s neck all warm and steady. 

“Is there a way forward for us, Levi?” He asks. “Am I such a terrible alternative?” 

“For sex?” Levi snaps. 

“For companionship” Erwin says, in a sort of bashful open way. 

“No-one’s ever-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. 

“I gathered,” Erwin says and Levi finds himself prickling at it. 

“I’ve  _ fucked _ before, Erwin” 

In dingy back alleys and flea ridden beds - scrubbed himself raw afterwards in the hopes of feeling less disgusting for needing a release. He’d hated every moment of it, he hates every moment of  _ this _ . 

  
  


Erwin still gets him to his room though. 

It’s a delirious mistake, probably fueled by the same euphoria of survival that’s numbing the loss of lives he’ll feel like a hangover by the morning. 

Erwin’s room is exactly how he expected a commander’s room to look. All elegant mahogany and clean linen. It smells like books, like honor and status. The colors are all warm and inviting. It makes him realise how cold he’d been. 

“May I?” Erwin asks. 

May he what? Levi doesn’t know but honestly he doesn’t care. He can’t be bothered. He can take the guilt in his stride when the sun rises in a few hours, until then he’ll trust in whatever mythic comfort Erwin’s offering. 

“Sure” He says, flippant and apathetic. 

There is something tense and dynamic shifting in the way Erwin slides both hands into his jacket, pushing off his shoulders in a clinical caress. Levi bites his cheek , focusing on the back wall as Erwin’s fingers start on the buckles of his harness. It falls to his hips and he feels a weightlessness to himself as he exhales. 

The cotton of his shirt does little to shield his skin from Erwin’s hands. The buttons come undone one by one, like crossing a barrier he knows he can’t come back from. 

“You’re breathless” Erwin says, like it’s some wonder. Focused so entirely on his responses it feels like some kind of trick.

“Enjoying yourself?” He rolls his eyes but Erwin’s hand finds his pulse, just under his jaw and he knows he’s broken an allusion of disinterest. 

He hates it, how vulnerable this makes him. His body's too unused to it to respond anyway but authentically. 

“Yes,” Erwin says, effortlessly. His eyes snap to Erwin’s - a mistake in itself - caught by the intensity of his gaze. 

He lets his shirt fall from his shoulders. Erwin's touch is light, across the brutal marks on his shoulder and his chest. 

“You still wear them too tight” He murmurs then quieter. “Isn’t it exhausting?” 

He shucks out his own shirt without breaking eye contact, hands less elegant on himself than he was with Levi, letting buckles hit the wooden floor under him. 

“You get used to it,” Levi says and Erwin gives him a smile that is far too sympathetic for comfort as he runs a hand over a blister on his shoulder blaze with enough pressure to make him hiss. 

The difference between them is heightened without clothes. Erwin’s muscle is firm and visible but it’s layered with a type of honed fat you get from good meals and a calculated regime. It’s incredibly touchable, Levi thinks. Explains his warmth. 

His own muscle is formed from necessity, not from discipline. His ribs showing in the areas that aren’t covered by intercostals - sleek and cat-like and his hips jut out where Erwin’s just overlap with muscle. 

“I understand how you move like you do,” Erwin says. The compliment feels backhanded, more of an assessment of Erwin’s own strength than Levi’s. 

“I understand why you don’t move like me” Levi mutters. 

Erwin laughs helplessly and kisses him with stunning familiarity, like Levi has been his lover for years. It’s open and scorching and Levi’s hands have to brace against his planes of Erwin’s chest. 

“Lie down” He says and Levi moves to sit on the edge of the bed. Erwin watches with raw, amused fascination. “Can’t?” 

Levi glares, hard and schooling. The distance is clarifying, it gives him a moment to regain a sense of control of the situation. When Erwin comes close, advancing with a self assured smile that means he’s really done this before - that it might not be as painfully clarifying as Levi hopes, like taking out a splinter - that it might be something close to that kiss, makes his pulse spike with panic. 

His foot lands on Erwin’s chest, still boot clad. Erwin looks down at it, then at Levi, eyes crystalline grey and filled with haughty disaffection. Erwin has the gall to look enthralled, like it’s the most attractive thing that’s ever happened to him. His hands start soft and unassuming at the buckles present on his thighs. Every brush against the skin like stepping in virgin snow - or a vicious gut punch. Levi’s eyes flutter. 

“Don’t like giving up control?” He asks, benignly. 

“Never found someone worth giving it up to” Levi snarls, realising only after it’s left his mouth that it sounds like a challenge. 

“No,” Erwin says, thoughtful and soft. His hand cups the top of his boot, holding his calf gently he slides it off. His hand cradles his foot, circling his ankle and marveling at how his thumb meets his fingers with room to spare. “That doesn’t surprise me. Though I have to say, you look significantly less formidable spread out beneath me” 

“My mother was a whore. It’s probably in my blood” It’s viciously venomous. 

They’re coming at this from entirely different perspectives. Erwin’s probably had girls and boys fall to his words and muscles like he has them fall to death. This soft and teasing courtship, it’s probably always worked. He sees sex as some fun release with moaning partners who melt under him. 

Levi’s seen it for what it is. How it eats people hollow, leaves them empty and used. Seen it’s power. 

Touch, love and comfort, are insidious dangerous drugs. 

Erwin looks disappointed, which in itself is disappointing. He wants to roll his eyes, spit that Erwin is stupidly naive to the world. 

“Did you expect me to moan under you? Come apart? Is that what you want? Did you think you could fuck subordination into me, Commander?” 

Erwin’s eyes fill with some furious betrayal, he steps back like he’s been burnt. 

“Do you think this is about  _ power?”  _

“It’s  _ never _ about anything else!” Levi barks, much too revealing. 

Silence spreads between them, punctuated by both of their heavy breathing. 

Erwin laughs, weak. “I don’t know what to say to make you trust me. I can see how much you want this, it’s written through you. It has been for months. You’re so highly-strung it makes my head sore just watching you. Why can’t you let me give this to you?” He comes closer, dropping to his knees and pulling Levi forward so they’re at eye level, his gaze is searching, imploring. “I won’t hurt you, Levi. I won’t take anything you don’t offer freely. Did you expect me to throw you on the bed and take you?” 

Levi startles, a shudder of something hot and desperate curdling in him. 

_ Yes _

He’d wanted it, a relinquishment of control without having to admit it. Without having to face whatever this is. Whatever this is becoming. He wanted to blame Erwin, wanted him to take his guilt and make something of it. 

“Is that what you want?” Erwin breathes, reading it in his reaction. There is shock on his own face now. 

“I just -” Whatever mixture of hate and desire, fractures at the memory of Erwin’s hands in his hair, of his wicked tongue. Whatever raw emotion he’s feeling clearly shows on his face. 

“Trust me. For once in your life, trust  _ someone _ ” Erwin says, with such control it makes Levi buckle with an intimate desire for submission he’s never felt before. “Trust me, Levi” 

A strangled kind of noise forces its way out his throat as he shakes his head. 

“Just  _ fuck me,  _ Smith” He snarls. 

He’s not even fighting Erwin at this point. It's the concept of him - that he could be brought to heel, that he could lose the independence that was shocked into him from such a young age. 

Moreover, it’s how desperately he wants to. 

“Turn over” Erwin says, dropping a ridiculously warm kiss to his forehead. It’s almost parental - in the strangest kind of way. Though, Levi wouldn’t know. He just thinks that’s how that would feel, a kind of helpless warmth that makes you feel oddly safe. He slides off his trousers, as Erwin’s brows rise at the dark marks across his thighs. 

He does as asked, arching slightly at the hand that smooths down his back, the other following the lines of marks, up the inside of his calf and to his thighs. 

His reactions are muted, stifled, almost by how new they are. His breath trapped in his chest as he catalogs it. 

Erwin shifts away and Levi fights not to turn to see what he’s doing. 

“I thought you’d startle,” Erwin says, softly and puts a fuck off huge hand across the small of his back. 

“I’m trying,” Levi mutters with a sigh that falters as he feels Erwin’s fingers against him. They’re warm, Levi realises dimly, which is just categorically unfair because he himself is always cold and has significantly less  _ to _ heat than Erwin does. 

The first slide is stupidly soft, uncomfortable but not painful. It doesn’t make him seize up or bite back a scream. It’s not raw. It’s the first telling sign that this is a mistake. That the tenuous string of self-control Levi is clutching at - a pain tolerance that is unparalleled - might be useless. His toes curl, breath heavy in nose as he pulls his elbows to his just under his head. It’s steady, warm and heady. Erwin takes more time opening him than anyone’s ever taken to fuck him and it makes him loose limbed with bewilderment. 

He’s gasping before he can help it, as Erwin keeps a brutal but even pace with his fingers, crooking and spreading them until Levi doesn’t know if his eyes are open or not. He knows Erwin is just a thorough man, he doesn’t leave anything to chance and he reads Levi like an open book, seems to notice every twitch and stifled moan until he finally lets out a broken cry at the sensation. 

“Your skin is soft” Erwin murmurs, almost to himself. “And you’re louder than I thought you’d be” 

“You’ve thought about this” Levi gasps, not even a question, just a numb repetition of something that doesn’t seem to make sense. 

“You’re not the only person filled with self loathing, Levi” Erwin murmurs against his neck. “I’d have let you slit my throat for chance at this” 

He jolts, something about the curse in that voice or the idea. 

_ I wouldn’t have been able to do it  _

He doesn’t say, he can’t admit it to anyone except himself. 

His skin is hypersensitive, glazed with sweat as his stomach muscles tremble. 

“What a fuckin thing to say” Levi breathes, blinking sweat from his eyes as he heaves. 

Erwin pulls out, making him feel empty and disorientating. He blinks against the sudden reassertion of his own desire, his trembling limbs the height of his hips. 

The bed dips where Erwin joins him. 

“Breathe” he says. Levi can feel him lining up behind him, the insistent heat of it. 

It’s a fucking presumptuous thing to say, Levi thinks, given everything that Erwin knows about him. Makes him defensively pricklish until Erwin actually pushes into him - then it makes a lot of sense. 

“Ah-” he doesn’t have any control over it, it’s just forced out him at the first long slide. His legs bounce with how hard he’s shaking from the push and his jaw locks against the chattering of his teeth as he breaks out in a cold sweat. 

It’s engulfing and sore in a pressing kind of way, like his body can’t handle it. His mouth drops open hopelessly, features twisted against the onslaught. 

“Are you okay?” Erwin asks, pitched and breathless. The grip on his hips is tight, telling of the amount of restraint Erwin’s putting into this. 

He tries to voice a response but nothing makes it out his throat except a garbled soft cry. Erwin pulls back, driving into him with more force than he was expecting and his body pitches forward bonelessly at it, held up only by Erwin’s arm circling his waist. 

The tip of his cock pummels right against that knot in his belly - the one that twists with hate and injustice - with such proprietary force Levi finds a shocked sob fall unbidden from whatever is being released. 

Erwin speeds up, like he can’t help himself, burying his head at the back of his neck, grip tightening around his waist. 

Levi realizes then how utterly limp he’s gone, held up and fucked only by Erwin’s grip on him. 

He almost does something about it, in a defensive need to find control again. He tenses bodily, pushing up on his elbows. 

“No” Erwin whispers, breathless and desperate. “Let go, Levi. Please” 

The angle shifts, hits against him in a way that makes him buck, head thrown back against Erwin’s shoulder. His hand shoots out, as Erwin pulls him up catching the back of his head to tighten on the blonde strands there. 

Thighs spread across Erwin’s, back arched painfully at the intensity of the sensation and eyes squeezed shut Levi finds himself thrusting down onto Erwin’s cock with the same fervor Erwin pushes up. 

Erwin’s hand splays across his stomach, tantalizingly close to his cock but with such intimate warmth Levi doesn’t mind. His thumb draws soft circles on his sternum as his lips draw patterns over his shoulder. It’s heady, soft and  _ nice, _ it’s fucking nice. 

“You’re crying,” Erwin says, sharp but breathless. “Levi-” 

  
“It’s fine-” He manages. “It doesn’t hurt -” 

Erwin slows anyway, thrusts longer but harder and they make his eyes squeeze shut, a litany of moans trembling out him. It’s a broken understanding of desire, a long overdue release of something that’s been building in him for years. 

He can’t even bring himself to be angry that this is happening with Erwin because he knew it would. That was the reason he pushed back for so long, hard enough to make himself sick, because he knew Erwin would be the type of man - the type of lover - to be able to coax something like this out of him. He’s the only man who’s ever got the better of him and that in itself was pretty. 

Erwin moans, he’s shaking too, Levi feels as his thrusts become wild. Levi takes it with a desperate, hungry, intensity. He feels heated, unsure where he ends and Erwin begins. He pulls off, turning in Erwin’s lap and sliding back down with an ease that makes Erwin look at him like he’s some kind of god. 

“Kiss me” He murmurs. 

Erwin’s eyes darken, as he looks up. Levi’s hands cup his cheeks, slender fingers brushing the shadows under his eyes. 

“Fuck” Erwin breathes, before he lurches forward, lips smashing into Levi’s with a passion that steals all his breath and thoughts at once. His back hits the bed, unable to stablise them both and Erwin hauls him forward by the waist, to fuck into him with the kind of heat and strength that makes Levi scream, raw and gutteral. 

Erwin’s hand takes his cock, matching his thrusts with the twists of his wrists until Levi comes undone with a cry that makes his throat ache. He feels Erwin come in him, deep and strange and satisfying in a crude, lewd kind of way. It makes him spread out, chest heaving, luxuriating on Erwin’s sheets as his pulse bursts behind his eyes, bright and sharp. 

Erwin strokes his cheek, gentle and shaky and Levi takes his hand. Weighs the size of it against his own with indulgent curiosity. There is a scar there, light but present that Levi realises with a jolt he left there.

He remembers it hazily, he’d been too angry - almost confused as to why his blade was stuck - till he’d seen Erwin’s hand on it. Gaze impassive again what must have been agony. He brushes his lips along the line of white. 

“It healed fast,” Erwin says, breathless before he slides out, falling beside Levi gracelessly. “If you were wondering” 

Levi flushes, unable to hide it post-coital. 

“I wasn’t” 

Erwin smiles and rolls his eyes and for a horrible moment, his gaze falls on the tear streaks on Levi’s cheeks. 

He’s not sure he has the means to defend against him if he brings it up. He might just open his mouth, desperately spew about how weak his own hatred has become, how desperate he’s gotten for Erwin’s kindness, his warmth. 

_ I’d die for you _

Erwin looks at him, fond and wondering with hazy and sleepy eyes before killing the lamp and pulling Levi close - safe in the knowledge he’s too exhausted to protest. 

“There’s a letter opener in the drawer,” He says, surprisingly mild, heavy with sleep. “If you want to finish the job” 

_ Bastard _

**Author's Note:**

> My spellcheck is spotty as fuck right now - I'm so sorry about that.


End file.
